Inquisition: Burning like Magefire
by psychomidget
Summary: Niyiri Levallen experiences heartbreak for the first time. And she can't handle the sorrow that it brings. Only a snippet of what I'm working on now. Please leave a review.
1. Chapter 1

Niyiri threw herself off of the back of her Hart, Ruriel, when he neared the stables.

"Lady Lavellan?" Master Dennett called as she turned and ran.

Niyiri ignored him, not looking at anyone as she hurried towards the castle, hiding her face. She made it inside, but couldn't avoid Varric's curious gaze as she hurried passed him.

"Sunny?" he asked as she passed him, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Varric," she stated in the most even tone she could muster.

She cursed inwardly at her wavering tone, and cursed herself twice when she heard the quick footsteps of the dwarf trying to keep up with her long strides.

"Sunny, talk to me," he pleaded, "I'm your friend; you can trust me with anything that bothers you."

"I know, Varric, but I just want to be left alone," she snapped, unable to keep her voice from wavering.

She made it to the door that led to the upper parts of the fortress, Varric's footsteps dying behind her. The elf took the stone stairs two at a time, her vision blurring. When she came to her quarters, she slammed the door shut and deadbolted it. She threw herself onto the bed, burying her face into the thick quilt. She wailed and screamed and beat her fists against the soft fabric. The anger, anguish, pain, and sorrow came pouring through in a cascade of sobs. Everything hurt in a way she'd never experienced before.

How could he do this to her? After everything? The pain they'd shared when his friend Wisdom had died, all the fights they'd protected each other through, the emotions they'd explored together, all the intimate moments they'd stolen…all of it for nothing. Months of courting, flirting, secret walks and meetings, all now meaningless. And the worst of it? He couldn't even tell her he didn't care. That he didn't want her to stop trying. And when he told her she'd understand some day, she could feel the dagger being twisted through her heart. There was nothing to understand. He broke her heart and didn't want her anymore. The true end to her world had come. Her last string of sanity had been cut. All that was left was everything that had ever hurt her. She hated it. Hated the pain, hated the sorrow, hated the fact that she loved him unconditionally.

Screaming with all her rage, she shot out of bed and ran to her vanity, slamming her fists on the sylvanwood. Niyiri stared into the mirror at her reflection. Her face was smooth like the day of her rite of passage, free of blood writing. Creamy and white, without a single blemish. Her long silver-golden hair rippled over her shoulders like a waterfall, glistening in the evening light that poured in off her balcony. She was perfect. It was disgusting. It reminded her of how often Solas would tell her she was beautiful, stroking her hair and running his fingertips over her smooth cheeks and chin, kissing her nose, touching foreheads together. The smoothness angered and disgusted her, the memories invoked more sorrow. The emotions burned through her like magefire, burning everything it touched and driving her to the edge.

She gripped the edge of the vanity so hard that her knuckles turned white. Her arms shook and she panted as the tears continued to pour down her face, eyes still locked on her repulsive image.

It became too much to stand. Screaming to the top of her lungs, she reared an arm back, hand curling into a fist. With all the might she could muster, she threw her fist forward. It crashed against the glass and broke straight through the back of the mirror, glass falling to the floor in a shower of sparkling shards. She was sure that the whole castle could hear her, but she couldn't care less. She continued to wail and scream in her agony, hammering her hands on the shard-littered vanity top, her hands coming back bloodier and bloodier every time she lifted them. In her fit of agony, she grabbed up a shard. Still screaming and crying, she grabbed a fistful hair from the side of her head and brought the shard through it, cutting it as close to her head as she could.

The Dalish elf could hear hammering at her door and yelling from the other side. She vaguely recognized the voices, but she ignored them. She grabbed fistful after fistful of hair, cutting with the broken shard of glass digging into her hand. When she glanced down at the floor through tear-filled eyes, she caught sight of her reflection in a larger shard. She ceased cutting her hair, sobbing as she sank to her knees before the larger piece of mirror. Through her tears, she could still see the smooth, flawless skin. The same skin that had once bore the vallaslin, the tattoos she'd proudly worn for years, thinking she was honoring the old ways. Solas had told her what those marks really meant, and he'd offered to take them away. And like a fool, she let him. He made her flawless again.

He must have liked "freeing" her from that. He must have done it to satisfy some desire to make her his, before throwing her away. She threw away a part of herself for him.

Sobbing, she gripped the shard in her hand tighter. She brought the tip to her cheek. The pain wracked her head, but she still dug it deeper into the flesh. She dragged the tip down towards her jaw, and then back up at an angle towards the bridge of her nose. She could feel the flesh parting easily under the razor sharp edge, gliding easily through the muscle like butter. The pain was extraordinary, and momentarily distracted her from her woes. She continued to carve intricate designs into her forehead and copied the pattern on the other half of her face. She withdrew the makeshift blade, staring at its bloody edge for a moment. In a last defiant throe of agony, she brought the tip to her bottom lip and pushed down. The shard split the soft skin there easily. She dragged the blade down her chin, her skin now numb to the pain that surely followed as the blood dripped down her throat.

Her tears stopped. Her fingers uncurled, letting the glass shard fall to the floor where it splintered into smaller pieces.

The door finally broke open.

"Niyiri!" several voices cried out.

Hands were touching her. She heard the voices surrounding her, but she wasn't paying attention. She hurt so much she'd become numb to everything.

A hand under her chin lifted her face to look up into a pair of dark, concerned eyes. Vivienne.

"Niyiri? Darling? Can you hear me?" she asked, wiping the blood and tears from the elf's cheeks.

Niyiri didn't give her an answer but a slow blink, like she was exhausted.

"Niyiri?" the enchantress asked again, her tone becoming desperate, "Are you all right? What happened?"

More of a response came this time in the form of Niyiri jerking out of her reach, glaring at her with burning teal eyes.  
>"I made a mistake."<p>

Niyiri got to her feet, wobbling unsteadily. As calmly as she could, she walked to her washbasin in the corner. She began washing the blood off of her hands as her companions watched in concern.

"Sunny…?" Varric asked gently as she began to wash her face.

Niyiri straightened, pressing a towel to her face. She remained silent.

"Sunny," he said again, just as gently, "What do you mean, you made a mistake?"

She turned to them, lowering the towel and revealing her scarred face and disheveled, chopped hair. Her teal eyes had turned cold, reflecting how the heartbreak had left her feeling. She continued to wipe her hands, even as more blood ran down her face.

"I fell in love."


	2. New Story to Follow

To those who liked this tidbit of story here, I have begun the full story of Niyiritvi Lavellan. You can read the first chapter here, if you're interested:

s/10939882/1/Dragon-Age-The-Wolf-and-the-Halla

Enjoy, my darlings! I desperately hope this makes up for my year-long absence. Go with my love! See you in Thedas!


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